Revenge
by band-aide-brand
Summary: When Siegfried was younger, he became the target of revenge of the very men who were supposed to be protecting him. Though he struggled, was he able to get free? Wasn't there anyone there to help? N/C rape minor


**Title: **Revenge

**Summary: **When Siegfried was younger, he became the target of revenge for the very men who were supposed to be protecting him. Though he struggled, was he able to get free? Wasn't there anyone there to help?

**Contains: **Yoai, Pedophilia, Rape, Noncon

**Disclaimer: **I shamefully do not own Yugioh or Siegfried, but I do own the men and my sick fantasies…

**Author's Note: **Well, I beta-ed this old thing to beef it up some and lean it down some. As most of my old fics, it has too much description where not needed and too little where needed and—as per usual—was not as well written as my newer things.

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It was eleven thirty on a Saturday evening and, try as he might, Siegfried found it hard to keep himself alert as he headed for his room for the night. Vater had made him stay over for a lesson in language since he was "falling behind" (one B on one test was not falling behind in Siegfried's opinion, but there was no arguing with Vater), but he had been assured that he'd be allowed to sleep in until eight thirty if he was sure he wouldn't mind missing breakfast. He didn't mind at all—sleeping was better than eating…it didn't make you fat…

As he made his way through the corridors and halls to his room in the residential part of their castle, he was frequently instructed to have a good night and to sleep well. He was so used to the night maids wandering around doing their mysterious night maid things that he barely gave them any thought. They were like ghosts that you could talk to without someone thinking of you as insane.

"Gute nacht," chirped a passing maid with a smile. She didn't wait for him to reply, but glanced at his face so he forced on a fake smile and, the instant her eyes were gone, he allowed his expression to droop and his eyes to relax—blurring the scene of the dreary corridor only slightly as his eyes rested.

He could use a good night's sleep. Sleep always felt better when it was deserved and needed. It always left him feeling refreshed…

Siegfried stopped as he reached the last set of stairs he would have to climb before reaching his bedroom. He looked up at the seemingly ominous flight and felt how heavy his body was. Yes, sleep would feel fantastic tonight.

"Ah, Jung Meister!" Siegfried flinched as his title was addressed and turned around. Aside from the man who had called him, three other night guards were offering him smiles which he didn't bother to return. Women, even ghost-like maids, deserved smiles in return for words and acknowledgment; men did not.

"Is something wrong?" Siegfried asked tiredly, looking over their faces and hoping they would just say "good night" and let him go.

"Are you heading to bed?" Asked the guard. Siegfried blinked.

"Ja…" he drawled.

"Oh, well, your father ordered that we check your room before you retire for the night since the maids carelessly left a side door unlocked. Someone might have gotten in, so we have to check." Siegfried stared at the man blankly. Someone may have gotten in? How did they get past the front gate, the other guards, and the watchdogs? Well…if there was a murderer, he hoped that it would just come out and kill him so he could sleep forever…

"But you don't need to worry!" One of the other three insisted. "We're almost positive that no one came in."

"We just have to follow orders—have to make sure." The third said. Siegfried felt himself whine discontentedly before he could stop himself. Exhaustion was no reason to act like a five year old. He was twelve! Zwölf!

"It won't take long," the first of the four guards stated, smiling. "We'll go as fast as we can." Siegfried made a gesture for them to just go and do their job and began slowly trudging up the steps.

He tried to elongate the trip, in hopes that the guards would finish by the time he arrived, but failed. They were still there, going through his things…Wait…Weren't they supposed to be looking for a person? Weren't there four of them?

Just as Siegfried was about to speak in protest against the breech of his privacy, he felt something heavy slam against his head with enough force to split his foggy vision and cause him to fall forward. He caught himself with his hands and, after recovering from the shock of being thrown, he glared back at the guard who was closing his bedroom door—not ignoring either the three others that crept towards him.

"Be quiet now," the guard who pushed him said. "We're gonna have some fun." Siegfried growled lowly and sprang back up—indirectly into the clutches of the guards who surrounded him. He began to call out something—something loud and something angry—but found himself being struck across the face with enough force for his jaw to creak and his right ear to ring.

Not used to being struck—not used to being touched, let alone hurt—Siegfried whimpered and raised a hand to his cheek, water lining his eyes. He was strong, he wouldn't let the tears fall from that weak of a blow!

However, though not crying, he was distracted long enough for the other guards to force him to move away from the dangerously close door and closer to his own bed. Bed? Siegfried couldn't even think about sleeping.

"What are you doing?" Siegfried shouted, using anger to block the tremble his voice had. Let them believe it was because of the volume. Instead of an answer, he was slapped once more and shoved backwards—knees hitting the large mattress and collapsing him onto it. "St-stop it!" He called out, blinking back tears and pulling his legs onto the bed as he tried to back away from them, trying to get away. One of the four grabbed him, it didn't really matter which, and pulled him back towards the edge by the collar of his new white shirt. The guard raised his hand to strike and Siegfried lowered his head, trembling.

The slap never came, but Siegfried didn't have time to glance up and see why it didn't. The hand gripping his collar was soon joined by another that tore off the neatly tied ribbon around his neck. Siegfried thought before screaming, fearing another beating that would leave him with a broken jaw.

"What are you going to do?" He stammered, trying his best to sound strong, but knowing he sounded weak. The guard did not answer and the other three began to move around, no longer standing and watching. Siegfried whimpered and twisted his head around, trying to keep them all in perspective, but it wasn't long before one appeared behind him and clasped a hand over his mouth and pulled him down to where he lay flat on the massive bed that they all know he didn't deserve.

Each time a button on his shirt was undone, he screamed out pleas into the hand that covered his mouth tightly. He could hear little more than his own muffled, pathetic sounding cries, but he the laughter of the guards was still audible. However, when the shirt was pulled open and the hands moved down to his pants he heard nothing other than his own screams. He tried to kick his legs, but the other two foresaw that idea and pinned them, and grabbing at the man's hands with his own was making no difference.

Soon, he found himself pinned and bared in all except for his arms which were still covered by his sleeves and were being held beside his head by the guard who had stripped him. Though he wasn't truly able to cross his legs and hide himself, he attempted anyway…didn't the guards just laugh at that? The tears were welled heavier in his eyes and his breaths shook with suppressed sobs.

Vater said never to cry. Not to cry…Not to…Don't make me…

But that was what they were trying to do, wasn't it? The more he attempted to thrash, the tighter the hands that grasped him would grip—and then that guard would raise his hand and the other would begin to pull his away to avoid being hit when the slap came.

That was all that would come, wasn't it? Pain? There were five in-home guards at night. Four of them were in his room, performing acts of humiliating treason. Where was the fifth? With Mutter? With Vater? In on it convincing the maids not to believe the screams they heard? Where was Vater?...Working…

"Now, if you want to leave this room in one piece, keep your mouth shut and do as we say or I'm going to take this—" the guard removed one hand from Siegfried's wrists and grabbed at the nightstick on his belt. "—and make it so your parents won't even be able to recognize you…" Siegfried whined loudly into the hand clamped over his mouth and shivered violently.

Slowly, though, the hands retreated. He didn't think himself lucky and attempt to run—he should have, but he didn't dare. That guard, the leader, kept their eyes locked and Siegfried dared not to look away or to scream. He breathed in shaky bursts and chased the thoughts of covering his most private areas away.

It didn't matter, he found himself being rolled over and couldn't tell if it was for the better or worse. At first it had seemed better, he was concealed, but he was degraded. They ordered him to get on all fours and he'd had to obey. He was the servant and he had to obey the masters.

That was what they wanted, wasn't it?

At first it had seemed better…but…

The hands had only left him for the moment, and in that moment he heard the sounds of the four men's belts being undone and the sounds of rustling fabric. He whined in confusion and dread and lowered his head onto the mattress and groaned into it, moving his hands to cover his head and clutch at his hair as if the makeshift shelter would make the reality into nothing more than a vivid nightmare.

"Stop that," the guard in front of him commanded before fisting his hand in the long pink hair and pulling the head back up from beneath the folded arms. After the man lifted his head, the leader placed his burning hands on his exposed thighs…

This seemed worse, but he dared not scream, not even when he felt himself being exposed in a different way and was able to save the panicked sound for when the first finger entered him.

"No! Please stop!" He jerked without thinking, trying only to get free of the hand that hurt his scalp and the one that was violating him beyond his belief. When the pain of his hair being torn from his head became too much, he jerked backwards, inciting the pain of two more fingers being forced deeper within him.

"Stop fighting," the man pulling his hair shouted, releasing his grip and grabbing instead his throat. He cut off the air supply and, subsequently, the sounds of protest. For a moment the pain remained the same, nothing became worse, nothing got better, but then the fingers were removed and the thought for a moment that it was over.

What else could they want?

"Now be a good little boy and do as you're told," the guard holding his hair said. "And know that if you bite me I'll mutilate you." Siegfried tried desperately to jerk his head away as the man pulled it closer, but was jolted forward once again when the leader grabbed him by the hips and thrust into him in one swift blow.

Siegfried called out at the sudden, intense pain and while his mouth was open the large guard before him shoved his erection into his mouth. Siegfried instinctively wanted to bite down on the intruder, but the guard's threat to beat him stopped him. What good would it do? They weren't going to kill him and…he wasn't crying yet! The tears were there and so ready to fall, but he still had his pride. He had his pride and his face if nothing else at that moment. He wouldn't allow himself to loose either in a fruitless attempt to get free. There were two other guards waiting for him to attempt to escape and had nothing better to do than stop him and make him suffer for it.

So he sucked at the man's member and tried hard to ignore the bile that was rising in his throat at the terror and the bitter pre cum that filled his mouth. At the same time, he had to fight the tears that were tipping over his eyelids while the leader pulled out slowly, with great friction, and then shoved back in again. He squirmed and screamed, but no one who saw cared…no one who could hear cared. There was no one there to help, no one there make it end…so he had to…had to cope. Right?

Right!

Vater would be proud, right? He didn't cry and he didn't act in vain. He would make it through alright! Vater would be…Vater would be…

But the pain that filled him was merciless, it didn't waver—it grew stronger. He could feel the friction lessening and knew that it was from the blood that he could smell along with the sweat. He didn't understand what this was. What had he done? He wondered for a moment if his father had planned it as a test of his strength, but pushed the thought away as the erection in his mouth was forced down his throat and passed his gag reflex. No one deserved this…right?

Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth as he was permitted a moment to calm his throat which contracted in an attempt to vomit. He didn't have long to recover, once he was simply panting, the member was shoved against his face again with a single command. "Lick It." He obeyed, trailing his tongue unwillingly from the base to the leaking tip while trying not to cry as the pain behind him tripled. "Suck on it!" He obeyed… He could hear the laugher over the guards' moans and his own whimpers. What was so funny? He was dying! He was sure of it! Even if he was a cruel jung meister…did he deserve this? He was sorry!

Siegfried whimpered loudly before being silenced by the hot seed that shot into his mouth. The guard quickly pulled out of his mouth in fear of teeth or perhaps it was fear of chocking the toy who was too shocked to think. (His horrified eyes revealed so much.) Siegfried let the semen run down his chin and drip onto his bed's sheets, creating a slimy puddle as the guard behind him began thrusting mercilessly.

He could take no more and his shoulders no longer shook with vacant sobs, they shook with real ones. The tears the fell heavily, cascading down his cheeks and mixing with the bitter liquid on his chin. There was no one there to console him and no Vater there to scold him for being weak—only the feeling of being used.

The feeling of an already murderous pain growing worse as the same fluid that filled his mouth filled his torn and bloody passage. It was like being set on fire and he knew that no matter how hard he cried, he would get nothing similar to mercy from his captors.

The guard pulled slowly out of the child and smirked as the boy collapsed from his dog position. Once more his hands covered his head and the only sounds in the room apart from heavy breaths were the cries of the bleeding young master. Those sobs made such a sweet sound when they came from the throat of such a spoilt child. He was already damaged in the best way possible—for the remainder of his eternity he would forever be cursed with wicked memories…and if not? Well, there were still two more men willing to drive the point deeper. And hell, if they finished and there was time for another go, they could all have another turn from dusk 'til dawn.

The leader and the second guard stepped back from the captive that made no movements from the position he had collapsed into except for to shiver and pull at his own hair while effectively muffling his own screams with the aide of the mattress. The third and fourth guards who had previously been watching the erotic scene while still attempting to keep an ear out for any footsteps in the hall or touches to the doorknob.

The third, who was the smallest of the four, moved around to the other side of the bed and forced Siegfried to fist his hands into the bed sheets instead of his hair. He made the boy lift his head and pressed his already dripping erection against his trembling lips. Siegfried looked up, his eyes meeting the guard's with a horribly desperate expression. It was a sincere gaze, but it was not enough to evoke anything other than very mild pity.

"Open your mouth," the guard annunciated firmly. After taking in a shaky and sorrowful sounding breath, the boy parted his lips—at the same time lowering his eyes—only enough for the guard to be able to force inside. His tongue pressed against the head in what could have been a weak attempt to force the intruding organ out, but he did not think to bite. He didn't have time before his attention was violently rerouted to his hips where one callused hand was rubbing while the other pressed against his bleeding and leaking entrance.

He screamed desperately despite the erection that was gagging him and tried to squirm away before the inevitable pain could return. Of course, there was no where for him to go. The guard that possessed his mouth had him gripped by the hair, the guard behind him grabbed his thighs—and even if he did break free the other two were there to catch him. He screamed louder, but the noise broke off into a pained silence as the fourth guard thrust into him.

What wasn't torn already tore then, and what was already ripped stretched farther open. Siegfried felt as if he were being torn apart and that, at any given second, the rest of his flesh would being to ripple and tear like that inside of him. He didn't care as long as it would distribute the pain from his bottom, his jaw, his cheek, and his throat.

"You need to quiet him!" The leader hissed to the smallest of the guards. Siegfried barely heard in his agonizing frenzy. His cries of horror and pain grew louder as the smaller guard obeyed and pulled himself free of the child's mouth in order to force his jaw shut with both of his hands and forcedly grabbed his attention while the fourth guard continued thrusting from behind.

Siegfried, still whining in anguish, looked up at him with tear-blurred eyes and squirmed more than slightly in false attempts to get free.

"Stop screaming," the guard spat. "Or I'm going to squeeze your throat—" emphasizing his threat by dropping one of his hands to Siegfried's neck. "—until your heart stops beating." What sort of threat was that? Siegfried wondered to himself. Death? Yes! Please! Stop or let me die! Death sounded better…But he knew in his heart that they weren't there to kill him. If anything, he wouldn't choke him at all, he'd just grab his nightstick and follow through on the previous threat of mutilating him beyond recognition.

His face was all he had left since he'd broke down into a mess of tears…

He had to obey—or at least try to.

When his jaw was released, he opened his mouth almost amiably to allow the member back inside and began sucking it as he was ordered to do. Though he tried to suppress them, the cries of agony that follow each of the forceful thrusts behind him were still more than half as loud as before. His body shook worse and, try as he might, he couldn't support the weight of his torso with his forearms and was only being held up by the cruel hand that gripped his hair.

The only sounds in the room were again the heavy breaths and the weeping, and the occasional protest of the bed. Sometimes there were gags when the smallest of the guards forced himself deeper into the trembling and sobbing boy's throat, but for the longest time nothing changed. Just the panting, the moaning, the screaming, the creaking, the sobbing, the choking…over and over in a twisted cycle.

After the guard in his mouth climaxed and Siegfried was forced to swallow his seed despite the increase in the volume of his screams as he protested—his mouth held shut once again—there was an alteration in the sounds that not one of them noticed. Not the leader, not his second in command, and not Siegfried. (Even if Siegfried had heard, he would have believed his mind to be playing tricks. And, if not that, he would have assumed that the rattling of the doorknob was the fifth guard coming to cause more pain.)

The guard behind him began speeding up and, free of the third guard's grasp, Siegfried buried his head once more beneath his hands, relishing the darkness while screaming into the mattress for help and for mercy, unconsciousness or death. Anything to make it stop—to make them stop…

Then came the sound again, though much more distinct the second time for the sound of keys followed the rattling and then the crack of the door lock rendered the guard—so close to his orgasm—still. The other three froze as well. Siegfried, however, remained trembling and whimpering, but for the time being his screams were quieted. All eyes turned towards the door momentarily before a mad rush began that Siegfried took no part in. While the guards hastily redid the zippers and buttons of their pants and retied their belts in the few short moments before the door swung inward, Siegfried took the time to pull into himself—letting his thighs drop against the soiled bed, pulling his shirt and only remaining scrap of clothing closer to himself, and letting his body shake to its full extent in fear of whoever was preparing to join them. Even if the guards were nervous, it could just be the intruder—some enemy of the family wanting to take part in the meaningless revenge too.

What else was there to believe? That someone had come to help? It would have been nice, but believing it to be so and having it disproved would crush the remaining bits of his stability…if there were any. He could feel the semen drying on his face, feeling it and the blood draining out of him and onto the sheets that were also damp with sweat and more of the same. He knew he looked disgusting, and no one—no matter what that person's intentions had initially been—would take pity on such a hideous creature.

With a whine and a shiver, he covered his head with his hands a final time and listened as his bedroom door swung open and bumped against the wall.

"Verlassen!" The man at the door barked. The guards subsequently glanced from their quietly sobbing victim to the vater of their jung meister. There was time to consider reaching for their guns and threatening him, but what good would that do? He was in charge of the world of war. Mercenaries, hitmen, murderers, and soldiers were all at his fingertips. Even if they killed him, it would be obvious that the fate that met them would be worse than if they obeyed his command. "Sofort!" Hastily, they obeyed.

When they had gone, Herr Schroeder firmly closed the door after watching them carry on nervously down the hall. He stepped over to the bed where his son lay in a disgusting heap of blood and seed and grabbed the boy by his shoulder with more gentility than he himself had expected. Siegfried jolted at the contact, but was able to suppress the scream that nearly accompanied the motion.

"Vater," he whispered, trying to keep his face buried despite his father's attempts to pull him up. It did him no good. Though his father was almost three times less brutal than usual when it came to forcing him to comply with demands (both verbal and nonverbal) he was unable to shake the man off. Though he longed for comfort, a touch that wouldn't inflict pain, he didn't want his father to be the one to give it.

He didn't deserve such affection from Vater. Especially not after such a display of weakness. He'd tried, but he couldn't hold back the tears. He wanted his father to know that he'd tried, but trying wasn't ever good enough. Success was the only thing deserving of praise and he had failed—though he was hurting, he had failed. He was shamed. He had lost. He should have done more to get free, even if it meant more suffering. He should have bitten, used the hands they let go unnoticed to scratch and claw…There were opportunities…

Siegfried knew that his father was aware of those opportunities as well…

That's why, when he found his head being pressed against his father's chest in an embrace without even having his face examined for tears or other signs of weakness, he was surprised enough that he choked. He tried to pull away and to glance up at his father's face to see if anger resided there…or boredom (was he just doing what he thought he was supposed to?—offer comfort to his son because he'd been hurt even though he didn't want to?) or sadness…but Vater held his head down firmly and wouldn't let him lift it.

Vater didn't want to see his face because he was ashamed too…that's all Siegfried could comprehend. Ashamed that his son was so weak that he couldn't get free, so weak that he cried when he realized that he couldn't, so weak that he didn't even attempt to get free once the assailants had stopped.

"Don't worry," Herr Schroeder said after several moments. His voice shook, but only with rage. Siegfried could identify the rage and could not mistake it for anything else. It frightened him and he sank lower in his father's grasp. "We will have our revenge, mein Wunderkind." Siegfried shivered and wondered who was entailed in the word "we", but when his father began to stroke his hair almost reassuringly, Siegfried felt himself relax. He shifted his leg slightly and whined involuntarily. After that, the petting of his hair ceased and he was only held…

He was certain that if he made a sound of pain again he would be pushed away.

There was no room for weakness in the Schroeder family, not even in the eve of a tragedy. Siegfried held still and did his best not to cry—he liked being held and savored it while it lasted.

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**A/N: **This is a pretty long one shot, don't you think? It's a lot different from the original, but I like it better.


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